


Fallen Regret

by PolarGrizz47



Series: Uncharted Prompts [36]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Death, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Come on, now. You've lived through worse than this. Just... Just live through this too." For Harry and a badly hurt Nate





	

The great Nathan Drake, adventurer extraordinaire, the man who _laughed nervously_ in the face of danger - falls to his death on an unnamed island because Harry Flynn couldn’t move _fast_ enough.

It just doesn’t sound right, Nathan wasn’t meant to die _like this_.

“C’mon now, mate,” Harry stresses, hands shaking and covered in dirt as he cradles Nathan’s face in his palms. “You’ve lived through worse than this,” He breathes, swiping at the sweat that clung to Nathan’s paling features. There’s blood bubbling up between the man’s teeth, his breathing is shallow and wet - he’s just lying there. Idly, the other man wonders if Nathan was so still because he _couldn’t_ move, his heart sinking as the realization crept over him.

Nobody could survive a fall like that without several fractures and broken bones. There’s already blood pooling around Nathan’s knees, his fingers rubbed raw in a testament to his last struggle, frantically clawing at the cliff face in desperation after the old stone had crumbled under his weight.

Harry wants to _scream_ , wants to punch something and find himself waking up from some horrid nightmare. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was just a _simple_ climb, they’ve tag-teamed taller structures before - this was child’s play.

“Just… Nathan, love, can you hear me?” Harry asks, voice trembling with sorrow as he pats softly along Nathan’s jaw, trying to rouse the fellow treasure hunter. No response came, his breathing clogged and eyes half-lidded. “Just, please, live through this too,” He whispered, reaching a hand down to clutch at Nathan’s own. 

For a long moment, he just stared. Nathan’s gaze was distant, his breathing growing soft and body unnaturally stiff. Harry knew the reaper’s presence when he felt it, his throat tight and eyes welling with tears.

It was his fault. He should’ve been paying more attention… he should’ve been there for Nathan.

But he _never_ was. Even if Nathan kept _trying_ to reach for him, the contacts fell short. Their relationship had long ago ended, Harry thought. Too many nights apart with no words between them.

He’d caused this. _All of it._

Flynn had abused Nathan’s kindness and willingness to aid an old friend. Maybe if he would’ve contacted Chloe _instead_ \- this wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t be here with Nathan slowly dying in front of him, the poor man not even spared for a quick and painless death. 

It wasn’t fair…

“I’ll call for help - Sullivan, right? He can get to us - got that damned fancy plane, yeah?” He muttered, frantically digging into his pockets, staring hard at the younger man in front of him. “Just - Just stay awake, love, all I’ll ask.”

* * *

“No, no, _no_ ,” Harry growls, pressing against Nathan’s chest in timed thrusts, his hands growing sore as he tried to kickstart Nathan’s body. “You are _not_ leaving me like _this_ ,” Flynn swore under his breath, tears leaving clean streaks against his dirtied features. “Do you hear me, Nathan?”

A few more pumps later, desperate, frantic, strong. He tries breathing air into Nathan’s lungs, the other man’s blood tasting bitter against Harry’s tongue. There is no response and Flynn’s heart sinks as he gently cups Nathan’s pale and blank features, tears falling down onto the man’s dusty shirt. “Please, love, _no_.”

He swallows down a sob, sitting on his knees by the body with dirtied hands and bloodied lips. Glossy eyes turn upwards to the sky, hands falling into his lap in defeat as he gazes at the dark clouds rolling overhead.

* * *

Nathan Drake was dead. Sullivan helped drag his body out before caringly bundling his body up and setting the course back to their current home. The plane ride over the sea is silent, too quiet, only the rattles of the machinery and the air soaring by them.

Victor hasn’t said a single word yet, not since seeing the body. Flynn had seen how his heart broke, he could pinpoint the exact moment in his memory, the day Sullivan’s eyes widened in disbelief as his heart was spit on.

As his goddamn _son_ was stolen from him.

Another cigar is pressed to the old man’s lips, his eyes set straight ahead and his hands tight against the steering, his knuckles white. Harry breathes in the smoke, keeps his gaze low as he runs a hand through his hair.

He can’t stop it when his gaze wanders, glancing into the mirror above them as he gets a full view of the cabin. It was empty, save for the body wrapped in a tarp and covered with Flynn’s jacket. Sharp, sorrowful eyes stare at it for a long moment, almost expecting Nathan to sit up and exclaim that it was the world’s most cruel prank.

A few more moments pass with no change, the body lying still.

He looks away, stares at the water passing below them and doesn’t say a word.

* * *

It has been a long while since Nathan died, the scars just starting to scab over in Harry’s mind. Sometimes, he still catches himself staring at an old photo, lost in Nathan’s happy, blue eyes.

What little personal items he had of Nathan were carefully stored, boxed away and kept safe. The photos of the man were slim, his trinkets that he’d left scattered in Harry’s apartment seem like decorative additions. Harry keeps them shined, free of dust. Chloe’s smile still drops when she comes over for a visit. When she walks by his faux mantle with all Flynn’s most valued photos on display, her gaze softens and her lips thinning. She still stops there, traces her fingernail against Nathan’s picture, those gray eyes filling with regret.

She never asked about their last moments, and Harry is thankful of that. She never mentions how Sullivan hasn’t so much as _breathed_ in Flynn’s direction since the fall. How Elena had cut ties with him, barely a text once a year. He hopes she’s happy, wherever she is.

Harry doesn’t tell her about the nightmares that are on repeat in his mind. The ones where he has to watch Nathan fall over _and over again_ , a hand desperately outstretched towards him, the man’s expression pleading and horrified. He doesn’t mention the sleepless nights, or how he can’t kiss anyone without thinking of Nathan for a brief moment, tasting phantom blood on his lips.

He’s getting better, he likes to say. It’ll just take a while.

* * *

Nearly ten years had passed since Nathan’s fall. The nightmares had subsided and his life was moving on, marching along to the promise of gold and jewels. The scars were still there in his heart, but it was getting easier.

Well, _was_ getting easier.

It was all looking up until he opened his door on a Sunday evening to find a very frantic, and very _alive_ , Samuel Drake begging for answers about his younger brother’s whereabouts, disbelieving of Nathan’s death.

“It can’t be,” he had said, clutching at the doorframe with a hollow look entering his gaze. “No - I - he… he’s… no, God.” Sam’s voice trembled as he pressed a hand over his eyes, shaking his head, “ _No,_ please - God, no.”

And Harry felt the scars get torn open in one foul swoop.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm sorry Nathan. lmao


End file.
